Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I only play with them, without aim for gain beyond personal fun.

A/N: It's shaky ground I am walking with this story, I know that..., I am not saying the characters act 'right' here, even less am I saying that I know how to act 'right' in such a tight spot... just messed around a bit and saw where that led me, and you can enjoy the result – or leave, if the story is not to your taste ;-). Story is finished already, I'll post parts 2 and 3 in a few days.

Warnings: Violence, including torture and death. AU, most likely.

* * * * *

In the eye of the beholder

Aragorn bit his lip in annoyance. They had been caught by orcs. Too many of them had suddenly been upon them, and Hilmar and he had no chance to drive them back. They fought as long as they were able, but in the end the sheer mass of orcs brought them down. Hilmar was injured, not deadly but enough to need Aragorn's help to walk.

Feelings of dread threatened to overwhelm the young Dunadan. He had fought orcs before and survived, but never before was he prisoner to them. Even though he had not been told the full tale of how Lord Elrond's wife had died, he had heard enough while growing up in Imladris to understand the terrible danger they now were in. Orcs were cruel by nature. For the first time in his life, Aragorn was truly happy to be no elf. He would not find mercy at an orc's hand as a human, but for elves the horrible beasts held a special hate.

The orcs brought them into a huge cave, down the tunnels and finally into a dark big cell. There they left them, and Aragorn helped Hilmar sit down at the wall. Then he looked around. Two elves were crouched in one corner, one of them seemed wise and old, despite the ageless face, but the younger one trembled. His nervousness was almost palpable. In the opposite corner a group of humans were located, and Aragorn was dismayed to see two children and a woman amongst the group of five.

The older of the men came towards Aragorn, and greeted him, "Well, I would bid you welcome, but this place is anything but welcoming. My name is Naomer. My wife Sibolda and my son Nordrim are over there. We are travellers from Rohan. Meothen has lost his wife when the orcs caught us, but his daughter survived."

In greeting, Aragorn bowed slightly, and said, "I'm called Strider, and my companion's name is Hilmar. We are rangers from the North." And with a nod towards the elves Aragorn asked, "And them? They seem to be from Mirkwood?"

"I know nothing about the elves, and to be honest I want to have to do as little with them as possible," Naomer said with obvious hate in his voice.

Aragorn was surprised, but kept his reaction hidden, instead he asked calmly, "Why?"

"One of them is a torturer."

With a frown Aragorn stared at the man. What he heard was hard to believe. Naomer explained further, "The other elves also keep their distance from him, and from us. Five they were, and they arrived together, but now one of them is tormenting either one of his companions, or one of us. The fifth elf is dead; he died by his own kin's hand. But I don't know why the others can't control him. The torturer is too strong for us mere mortals. Meothen, two friends of us who are dead by now, and me tried to overcome him, but we could not manage. He fought like mad. But the elves just sit there and do nothing. They should stop the crazy one. He did torture one of them to death as well, after all! And right now he is having his go with another elf!"

Naomer's voice became more and more agitated, and Aragorn glanced shortly at the elves. There was no way they could have missed what was being said, and yet they did not defend this renegade elf, instead the younger of the two seemed to shake even more, while the older tried to comfort him. Aragorn exchanged a glance with Hilmar. The other had not been raised by elves like Aragorn, but he had met the sons of Elrond often, and went on well with them. His expression spoke clearly of his dislike as well as distrust of the information they just had heard.

Aragorn talked a while longer with Naomer, to gain more information about the situation they were in. Then steps could be heard. A few orcs came, and between them they carried an unconscious young elf with dark hair. After them, with slow steps and head held high and proud, a blond elf followed. Aragorn almost gasped out loud. This elf looked exactly like a younger Thranduil. Aragorn had met the elven king once, and knew Elrond was expecting his son with an escort for a short visit. This elf most likely was Legolas, son of the king of Mirkwood.

For a moment their eyes met, then the elf's eyes flickered over the sitting Hilmar, and everyone else in the cell, before he retreated into the corner farthest away and stood against the wall, unmoving, with stoic face and unresponsive eyes.

Aragorn stared at him for a while longer, barely able to believe his eyes. Everything he ever had heard about Legolas implied that he was caring and gentle. To imagine him as torturer was almost unthinkable. Perhaps he was mistaken. Perhaps the elf now with him in the cell was not Legolas.

He would not – could not – ask though, in case the orcs or even humans knew not who the elf was. A son of an elven king was a high prize. Aragorn would not endanger Legolas such, no matter how he seemed to behave now. As for the torment... Aragorn resolved to observe more before he made up his mind, but for now he would continue under the assumption that indeed the elf was Legolas. What he had seen so far seemed to indicate that Naomer had spoken truth, but he would wait a while longer before he made his final judgement on the issue.

* * * * *

While Aragorn was bandaging the deep wound in Hilmar's leg, one orc returned, and brought some food and water. A dreadful silence fell over all in the cell. Aragorn understood why, as soon as the orc growled, "Tomorrow one of you is going to be branded."

Now the torture that would follow the next day had been declared, and nervous glances were exchanged amongst humans and elves. The woman and her son were crying softly. The only one who showed no reaction at all was Legolas.

Naomer and Meothen brought their family members food and water, and then they joined Aragorn and Hilmar, who were eating the meagre meal quietly.

"Meothen and I think we should try again to overwhelm the torturer. We are four now, perhaps we could convince the elves as well to join us," Naomer said.

The two rangers exchanged a short glance, and Hilmar answered, "I don't think that wise. We know not much about what is going on here, and to attack an elf is never without risk."

Meothen exclaimed, "Not attacking him is not without risk as well. Who, do you think, will he choose?"

Aragorn asked, "What do you mean by that?"

Meothen, with a nod towards the corner Legolas was in, said, "He decides who has to take the branding. Tomorrow, when the orcs come, they will ask him whom to take. Then he will indicate one of us, and also do the torturing. So far he has not sunken as low as to have the orcs take one of the children or Sibolda, and it was an elf today. I am sure it is going to be one of us humans tomorrow, though."

Naomer added, "Both Meothen and I have been chosen already, as have been all the elves. Often it is bearable, but a branding is what killed one of the other men before. I don't know if one of us would survive it, and from the torturer's patterns so far I am also sure one of us humans will have to take it."

Despite his resolve to not falter in his belief that Legolas was not cruel by nature, Aragorn shuddered. Hilmar now reluctantly said, "At first I thought you speak nonsense, but now that I heard all this, I agree. If the other elves join us we could try to overcome him, but I don't think we stand a chance without them."

With a short nod Naomer went towards the elves, while Aragorn quietly argued with Meothen, "It might well be the elf has reasons we know nothing about for what he does. What you told us indicates he tries to spare the weak ones at least."

"Wait until he has been over you, and then tell me again that we should wait!" Meothen angrily growled. "It might be well too late then. I have seen my two strong friends succumb to the cruelness of this elf, and I tell you: none of us will leave this cell alive if we do not stop him!"

Before Aragorn could answer, some excitement arose from the corner the elves were in. Naomer's raised voice could be heard, "Are you afraid of him so much? Of course you can fight him!"

The answer of the oldest elf was quiet, they could not hear it, but a few moments later an angry Naomer stalked back to them, and stated, "They will not or can not aid us. We are on our own."

Again Aragorn glanced towards Legolas. The elf seemingly had not moved, but his stance spoke of a determination that indeed seemed unshakeable. The two rangers, knowing well about the superior fighting abilities of elves, agreed wordlessly that battle against him would be too risky. Aragorn, who despite his younger age was the one who ultimately would decide their course of action, spoke for them both, "We also won't fight. And I advise you to not oppose him alone."

Naomer and Meothen tried once more to convince the two rangers to change their minds, but as soon as the Rohirrim realized that they would stand to their decision they went grumbling back to their families.

Aragorn barely slept during that night. Alternately he checked Hilmar's wound which showed signs of infection, or observed the others. The group of humans huddled together closely, and they were quiet. The three elves talked for a while, but then they also seemed to rest. Legolas waited until everyone settled down, before he helped himself to the meagre leftover of dirty water. Food had none been left for him, but Aragorn knew that lack of food would not bother an elf for a long time.

"He is a curious one, this elf. I'd like to know his story," Hilmar said softly. Surprised Aragorn looked at his fellow ranger. He had thought the older ranger was asleep. Once more he checked Hilmar's forehead, and with dismay registered that he was warm to the touch.

For a moment Aragorn considered to tell the other about his guess that the elf was Legolas, but then he only answered, "He is indeed."

"Whom, do you think, will he choose tomorrow?" Hilmar's voice was calm. Aragorn knew that despite the fact that the other was afraid, like he himself was, he would take whatever came his way without complaint, and that his question was asked out of want to prepare. Aragorn had given the matter some thought, but he chose to not voice his opinion in full, instead he only said, "I don't know, my friend, but I am fairly certain it won't be you. Anyway, we'll find out soon enough. For now, I suggest that you rest. You have a fever and I can't tend you properly here, your body will have to fight it on its own. Rest will be of importance for that."

After Hilmar had fallen asleep, Aragorn once more let his eyes drift towards Legolas, who ignored his stare completely.

Some time later steps indicated that the orcs came. Aragorn was still watching Legolas, who now for the first time, and only for a moment, met his eyes. Then Aragorn knew he was the one Legolas had decided on. Relieved that Hilmar would be spared, Aragorn rose to his feet, let his cloak slide to the ground next to Hilmar so that it would not be lost or damaged, and waited for the orcs to take him.

* * * * *

After a few hours, Aragorn wished fervently that he simply could escape. The pain from the iron pokes that Legolas repeatedly pressed against his flesh was unbearable, and despite his best efforts to hold back, he cried out in pain once more. So far he had not begged the elf to stop, but it had been close, despite the fact that Aragorn was sure no amount of pleading would keep the pain from coming. As of yet the orcs had not even asked something of him, they were not doing this to break him into giving up secrets they most likely were not even aware that he held. This whole enterprise was sport to the orcs. But what it was for Legolas, Aragorn had not figured out yet.

Not once did the elf flinch or hesitate while torturing him. Again and again the cold eyes looked through him, as if he were a mere object, not worthy of further consideration beyond where best to place the next poke. Aragorn by now no longer was sure if the elf truly could be Legolas. All he knew right now was pain and terror like he never before had felt, and he was beyond the point where he even cared that he reacted badly whenever Legolas approached him.

His eyes went wide the next time Legolas came close. This time the elf held not a simple iron pole, but a flat shovel, glowing red and giving off a heat Aragorn could feel even from the distance. He was no longer fully conscious, but upon seeing that he tried to fight with all the strength he had left. While uttering a string of curses, he pulled at the ropes that bound his limbs, but to no avail. He was held in place and there was nothing he could do to avoid the approaching terror.

Then Legolas pressed the red shovel against his side, and white hot pain swallowed Aragorn.

* * * * *

When he woke, his whole body pulsed with pain. The most terribly hurting spot was his left side, and he remembered what had happened. In uncontrollable fright, Aragorn tore his eyes open and jerked as if still bound and once more trying to free himself. The movement jarred his many hurts, and he almost passed out again, but then his eyes fell on the worried face of Hilmar, who quietly said, "Don't move, Strider. Stay still and I'll try to ease your pain."

Aragorn calmed, and he pain got bearable. Hilmar, who knew not nearly as much about healing as Aragorn, but had basic training, put a soft wet cloth on Aragorn's side, and with another he was dabbing at the smaller wounds, in a try to clean them. A glance around told Aragorn that he was back in the cave, as was everyone else. Legolas again was in his corner, a motionless cold statue. The oldest of the elves was sitting a few feet away from the two younger ones, and the other humans were once more huddled together in a tight knot of bodies, legs and arms, seeking comfort from each others presence.

Hilmar offered him some water. It tasted as bad as the night before, but Aragorn knew he needed the fluids, any fluids, so he drank without complaint. Hilmar asked him how he fared, but he ignored the question, instead asked one of his own, "How long....?"

His voice was weak and raspy, and Hilmar answered calmly, "Night is already half over. We have a few hours until daylight. But do not fear, I am sure you will not be chosen again."

Something was off. Aragorn looked closely at his kinsman, and thought he could see a bruise on Hilmar's face that had not been there the day before. With a frown he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing." The replay was given hastily and Aragorn's frown deepened, while he continued to stare into Hilmar's eyes demandingly.

Finally Hilmar admitted, "Well, we tried to stop the torturer. After I saw what he did to you, I conceded. He can't be allowed to continue his cruel deeds."

Once more Aragorn glanced over to the elves, and the humans, before he softly asked, "Did everyone fight?"

"No, the elves again refused. I can't understand them. Clearly the oldest will be chosen for tomorrow's torture, they always seem to know if one of them has to go, and whoever it will be separates themselves the night before. But all of us men tried, and we lost badly. Perhaps if you had fought with us, we would have stood a chance. But as it is Naomer has a broken arm now, and Meothen and I have collected a fine assortment of small injuries. Nothing dangerous, I assure you," he hastily concluded when he saw that Aragorn tried to rise.

Aragorn, who by no means was in any condition to get up yet, sank back with a heavy sigh, and tried to relax, and after a while he dozed off.

When he next woke, he felt stronger, and went up. Legolas and the oldest of the elves were gone already. Aragorn checked the arm of Naomer. It was already treated as well as was possible in their situation. Then Hilmar and he tried to cheer the children up, and relax the others, but they were nervous themselves, and after a while everyone fell into unsettled silence once more. Aragorn closed his eyes, but he did not sleep, instead he was thinking, hard.

Hours later, orcs brought the old elf back. He was unresponsive, and fell where they let him drop, an undignified heap on the ground. When the two others checked him over, they realized he was dead already. One broke down, and wept loud and long, while his injured companion more quietly lamented. Legolas gave no visible sign that he was affected in any way by the death of one of his kin, and the group of Rohirrim murmured angrily amongst themselves.

Hilmar, who was also observing the torturer, quietly said to Aragorn, "We must do something, do you not agree?"

"I agree that some action is needed, but I don't believe that killing this elf will solve anything. Think about it, Hilmar. Why does he torture, but spare the weak? Why is he with us, and not with the orcs?"

This time the orcs did not declare any torture to come for the next day, when they brought food and water. Aragorn asked Naomer, "Has this happened before?"

"Yes, sometimes. The torturer still leaves though, so perhaps they have other prisoners, and he works them over for a change."

Aragorn did not think so, but kept his opinion to himself, instead he asked both Meothen and Naomer for any information they had on the cave system, the timetables of the guards, how many usually came and so forth. The two Rohirrim exchanged a glance, and then, in a whisper, Meothen asked, "Do you plan to escape?"

"Do you not?" was Aragorn's only response.